


Better to Burn Than To Fade Away

by Gothams_Only_Wolf



Series: Widow Bites [4]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Awesome Natasha Romanov, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Familiars, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Magic-Users, Multi, Natasha Needs a Hug, Red Room, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothams_Only_Wolf/pseuds/Gothams_Only_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Black Widow has many secrets. This is the tale of her magic and how it changed her fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better to Burn Than To Fade Away

**Author's Note:**

> Oh this baby did not want to come out. Kept rebuffing me at every turn and yet—Here we are. 
> 
> There is a playlist for this! http://8tracks.com/sparrowinsky/soundtrack-for-better-to-burn-than-to-fade-away
> 
> Enjoy?

* * *

Born Natalia Romanova, this particular red-headed girl carried a secret; she had magic, plain and simple. It was elemental, ageless as the earth and as brilliant as the sun. Here is the story of how it found her joy, even in the darkest of times, and brought her love into the light.

* * *

**Russia, 1928; Stalingrad**

Life started out fairly simple for someone who will become the greatest spy to ever have lived.

She's born three minutes before midnight on one of the coldest nights of the year. Her scream was thin, high, and oddly enough, musical. When settled into her mother's arms, she was snuffling but not crying. 

"Natalia. She's the spitting image of my Grandmother," her mother murmured into her hair as Natalia suckled. "She will be so strong, my little firebird." 

"You think she has it? What some in your family hold?" Her father asked as he cradled Natalia close when she's handed off to him. His work-roughened hands were gentle, stroking the few strands of brilliant red that she bore with a teary smile. "I do not care. If she has it, she has it. We will teach her to keep it close." 

"Thank you, Alyosha." 

"I should be thanking you for carrying this miracle." Alyosha's throat worked as he cried silent tears over their daughter. "She's perfect." 

"You are being sentimental darling." Her mother said, crinkling of her bright green eyes. "We will raise a fine child, I think."

* * *

Natalia was a bright girl, her gaze taking in everything. She's almost walking by her tenth month, wobbling as she grabbed onto furniture and the borzoi the Romanovs had for company. Her chubby hands were cute and she laughed at the bright lights her Auntie could make. The first time she made her own lights, Mama cried with joy (and fear, though Natalia will not know this until much later). 

"Look, Alyosha! She has it. She has it all." Her voice shook a bit but she supported Natalia's lights with her fingertips. Natalia simply observed, giggling as she kicked her legs to make the lights float up to the ceiling. 

"Irina, we need to involve Sibeal." Alyosha said plainly. 

"We do. She is blessed and cursed by turns, our little light." Irina whispered as the lights fade once Natalia falls asleep. She scooped up her daughter, closing her eyes briefly and whispering prayers to any god that would listen to protect her little girl. 

Alyosha and Irina tucked her into bed, watching over her for quite some time after she had fallen asleep.

* * *

**Natalia's Fourth Birthday**

Natalia (who prefers Nat) simply adored Sibby. Sibby spoke in other languages aside from Russian, the lilting tongue something her Aunt promised to teach Nat when she was older. 

"The best way to control what you feel, little firebird, is to concentrate on the ball of light in your tummy. Can you do that?" Sibby asked with a smile. 

"Uh-huh!" Nat nodded enthusiastically, looking and finding a big light in her tummy. "Now what?" 

"Can you show me?" Sibby said as she touched her own tummy and came away with a round, warm light. "Like this." 

"Okay." Nat did it too and watched as Sibby's expression changed from sweet to thoughtful in a flash. "Is it a lot? I like yours; it's blue and green." 

"Yours is red and black, my sweet bird. It means you're full of fire." She replied with a wide smile. 

"Fire... is good?" Nat was worried it wasn't something she should have had. 

"It's wonderful, Nat, I promise." Sibby pressed a soft kiss to Nat's curls, drawing something on her forehead. 

"What's that?" She looked up at Sibby with a pout. 

"A... sign. It's to keep you safe, little bird." came the counter. 

"Teach." Nat demanded as she raised her arms for Sibby to pick her up. 

"It's not easy." Sibby warned with a look that normally means Nat should stop asking. "You are going to get mad." 

"Please?" It's Nat's newest word and Sibby laughed as she lifted Nat to blow a raspberry against her tummy. " _EEEE!_ " 

"Alright, firebird, we'll do it your way." 

"Yay!"

* * *

Nat learned a lot of signs that she couldn't draw on school paper. Sibby told her they were a secret; just between her and Nat. She kept all of her drawings secret except for the ones about horses and birds. 

The light in her tummy never seemed to be seen by anyone but her. Sibby went away for something she promised Nat would love, whispering the date in her ear. 

She waited every day after school and almost all day on the days she wasn't in school for her teacher to return. 

Papa and Mama liked to sit and watch with her. They taught her pieces of a language they called English (or, at least what they could remember from school). 

The day Sibby was supposed to return, Nat was practically vibrating out of her skin as she sat on the window sill. 

Sibby exited the taxi with a wide stride as she hefted a box. 

Nat squealed and bounced in place on the sill, her little window-box creaking as she watched. 

"Hello, hello~ I have a gift for a little firebird." Sibby held out the box and Nat peered over the edge to see a beautiful bird cheeping up at her. "It's a pheonix." 

"Is he mine?" 

"Yes." Sibby put the box down and Nat scooped up the bird gently. 

"You're Orel." Nat told her bird and she's greeted with a soft kreel.

* * *

Nat did everything with Orel, the bird bright and attentive to her every need. She played in the wheat fields, giggling as Sibby played hide-and-seek with her while the sheaves grow taller and taller. 

Red hair flew like a horse's mane behind Nat, her laughter contagious as Sibby tickled the bottoms of her feet. 

When she became tired and sleepy Sibeal picked her up with gentle hands to cradle her close. 

"How is her training going?" 

"Well. Natalia is a wonderful student and she's so bright. She'll make a formidable sorceress one day." The tender stroke across her forehead made Natalia whine softly in her sleep. It drew laughter from Mama and Papa and Sibby but she didn't understand why.

* * *

**Russia, 1933; Stalingrad**

Natalia watched in awe as Sibby wove lights around their house. She looked more worried than the last time they'd played together. 

"Sibby?" 

"Yes, lovely little bird?"

"The lights... What're they for?" Nat's curious and Sibby usually answered her questions when Mama and Papa couldn't. 

"To protect your house and you, your Mama, Papa and Orel." Sibby finished off with a pretty flourish. "I'll leave you a book so you can learn how to do them yourself. Would you like to learn some of them now?" 

"Yes please." 

She grew like the wheat, tall and strong, until the summer of her seventh birthday. 

That year Papa had enough for a _car_ , having scrimped and saved and worked his fingers to the bone, saying they were going on a trip to the sea. Sibby was coming with as was Orel. Papa and Mama packed up suitcases and Natalia packed hers by herself because she was already a _big_ girl. 

The same light that helped her think better also let her fold her clothes the same way Mama did but without her hands. 

Sibeal called it magic.

Natalia loved it, using it at home all the time. She knew that guests and friends were never allowed to know; Sibby had drilled that into her a long time ago. 

She packed everything tightly, happy to carry her own suitcase to the car. It wasn't luxurious but it worked the same as any other that came off the line. It was _theirs_ , something they owned with pride. They drove (making short stops along the way) and finally halted when they reached the edge of the ocean. The small sea cottage will remain in her memory for a long time, through the many events and hardships she had yet to face.

* * *

It was at the cottage that Natalia mastered her magic. Sibeal threw runes, Warding and protection spells at her as she worked through each magical art. She learned Gaelic, conversations that started in Russian switching flawlessly to Gaelic and back by the time those lessons were done. 

She forged protection amulets for her parents, though it was only against small things (burnt fingers, cuts and such). Orel grew to be large enough to cover her shoulder with his tail feathers. He's not done, not by any means, but she lavished affection on him the way a normal child would a pet cat or dog. 

Natalia made friends amongst the fishing village children, playing in the surf with them until she's called home by Mama or Sibeal. All of the children adore Sibeal, though Nat got to spend the most time with her. 

They enjoy thier time by the sea, practically glowing with happiness. 

The day Mama and Papa went for a drive and never returned—It changed everything.

* * *

Natalia screamed and cried when they took her away from Sibeal, saying she was not of Natalia's blood, and because of that she could not be a fit guardian. She solemnly stared at any couples that wanted to adopt a little girl, crying hot tears into Orel's feathers at night. 

"We will adopt her." The man in the suit had taken one look at her, sharp and cold to her magical senses, and insisted on filling out paperwork. "She'll brighten under our care." 

"You must be delicate. She understands that her parents are gone but not why they haven't come to get her." The orphan patron insisted and Natalia scooted back into her hiding place as the man signed the dotted line anyway. 

"I'll run away," she told the man in the suit on the way out of the orphanage. 

"I know," he replied with a bland expression. "The question is, darling, will you survive the Russian winter that follows?" 

Natalia sighed under her breath and called for Orel with her magic with his familiar weight settling on her shoulder. At least one thing would be the same, something that was hers and hers alone.

* * *

The cold man didn't stay long. She was introduced to another person, this one a little kinder to her gut feeling. They fed her and introduced her to the other girls they'd adopted from across Russia. So many faces in the crowd, some of them already making friends with the ones they're standing next to and something she can do once she goes out into the crowd. 

Natalia does not see any lights like her own. She searched like Sibeal taught her but not one of the girls had a spark of magic like her. 

She made friends easily enough, most of the other girls her age or a little older, but kept her secret close to her chest. There was no telling what they would do if they knew she had magic thrumming under her skin.

* * *

Natalia found that the place was like a maze, full of strange rooms as well as some rooms that felt so bad they made her physically sick if she passed them. The teachers made them speak English and Russian so that they could go to America and look for jobs. 

She flourished under the attention, the painful memories of being taken from Sibeal hurting less and less as the months passed. Keeping up with both the mundane and what Sibeal had taught her was a challenge but one Natalia embraced if it meant not forgetting her teacher. 

Natalia's favorite part was the ballet they were taught. 

Nat excelled there, going through each form long after the others had moved onto new things. The girls who managed to stay in the class shrunk with each one until they were just forty out of the hundreds of girls who had tried it. 

She was made the lead when she turned eleven, teaching the new girls as they came in, adjusting elbows and knees alongside the instructor. 

The classes began to get harder taking on an almost threatening vibe to them as she learned more languages and harder ballet moves. 

**Russia, 1945; Siberian Training Room**

Natalia was seventeen when they brought in the Asset. 

They are told nothing but to find him in a room. If they could find him at all, came the implication behind the cryptic words. 

He'd been trained to be one of their best; swift, silent and deadlier than the 'games' that had been introduced when the group needed to be sized down to thirty. 

She sent out a burst to see if any of them had magic. What was unusual was the fact that the man in the corner did, his magic blue and brown like the eyes of Natalia's old borzoi mix. 

Electric blue locked with glowing emerald in a passage of kindred magic. The man blinked slowly as Natalia gave him a small, subtle wave. He looked at his hand, the same one Natalia had waved with and lifted it to mimic her, the return wave stiff and almost scary with the scowl he made while doing it. He dropped his hand the second he was done but Nat saw the blue eyes were softer than the rest of him. 

He wasn't dangerous to her, even as she broke from the search to sit next to him. 

"What's your name?" She asked quietly. 

He stared at her for a long moment before answering in Russian "...Yakov." 

"Natalia." She murmured as the other girls shuffle past them without looking. "You're Warding, aren't you?" 

"Warding?" The confusion present in Yakov's voice makes her blink in shock. 

"You mean you don't know what you're doing?" Natalia came very close to doing a double-take but that would give away her astonishment. She wasn't supposed to reveal any weaknesses this far into the 'Program' she found she was a part in. 

Weakness meant you ended up in the rooms that made her vomit when she passed them. No, it would do her no good to show it. 

"Just that no one sees me when I do it and my handlers don't know about it. Are you going to tell them?" Yakov replied with a wary look in his bright blue eyes. 

"No," she responded as the other girls reported failure one-by-one. "They won't hear it from me." 

"Where is Romanova?" Their instructor barks as Yakov motioned for her to follow him. "She was sent into this room the same as you." 

"No one has seen her, Ma'am. She came in with us. I think she found the Asset." One of the girls bravely volunteered. Speaking out of turn normally would have gotten her taken away. 

"That is a possibility. You're all dismissed." The severe instructor looked around the room after the other girls left them. "Romanova, Asset, come forward." 

Natalia slipped from behind the secret shelf in the room with Yakov behind her. 

"Report." 

"I have finished the objective." The Asset (Yakov, Nat's mind whispered) stated with a blank expression. "Find the best of the Program to train." 

"I have found the Asset as requested of me, Instructor." she mimicked him with the same tone and blank expression. Her instructor shivered minutely at the copy; the woman found the Asset terrifying. Natalia was clearly on her way. "What is my next objective?" 

"Train with the Asset. You are dismissed for now. Follow the Asset to your new rooms."

* * *

Part of her training, aside from learning to shoot various weaponry, was to teach Yakov all of her magical knowledge. She promised him one night after he stumbled into her room, ice cold and shaking like a leaf. 

"Today?" Yakov asked as he flipped Natalia over his shoulder with a move that would have broken her shoulder had she not been as flexible as she was. They were being monitored for her progress on top of making sure Yakov didn't stray from his own 'training.' 

Natalia called it for what it was: torture, plain and simple. 

"Of course." she hummed as she used his weakness to shift her hold on him so that he was trapped by her thighs and she could twist her hips to snap his neck. Natalia didn't know if she could kill him but she had no want to find out. 

"Romanova, release the Asset." 

"Yessir." She smoothly fell and somersaulted upright with little exertion. "May I clean weaponry with the Asset?" 

"You may." She knew what they thought she and Yakov were doing—Assumptions were deadly in the game they played and Natalia would let them think that for as long as she could.

* * *

They started with sigils and Familiars. Natalia called Orel to her with a clear, light whistle full of magic. Yakov did the same and was rewarded with the sight of a hawk with more than intelligence behind her eyes. 

"I've... done that before." Yakov murmured with dawning horror. "I can't remember her name." The hawk kee-eered and Yakov gave the bird a look of comprehension. "Sweetheart. Oh Sweetheart, I'm so sorry." He cradled the bird in his arms and stroked along her chest feathers as he listened intently to what his Familiar had to say. 

_She said it's been three years since he last called her. She is very upset with him._ Orel relayed with amusement pulsing through their own bond. _However, she is also very pleased to see him again._

"You can understand her?" 

_Sibeal knew what she was doing when she acquired me._ Orel remarked slyly, his tail feathers brushing against her hip. _We'll have to sketch out lesson plans. When he comes back that cold, he forgets things. I don't like what they're doing to him. It's **wrong** and we both know it._

"Unless we want to end up like him, I suggest we do what we can from our side." she countered with the brief visual of cold snow and punishment for a minor infraction of the rules here. If she hadn't had Orel to warm her up, she would have frozen to death at some point. 

_... Your point is valid._

"Yakov?" 

"I want to know everything you can teach me." He said with a blaze of determination in his eyes. 

"We'll start with the sigils you can use to keep from forgetting again." Natalia agreed as she drew out the more common memory runes and sigils. 

They work long and hard at it, Orel burning the paper so that Natalia doesn't have to carry them with her everywhere as he has the ability to return the pages to their original forms with ambient magic.

* * *

They enjoyed their time together, quick and fleeting as it was; her magic soothed his and his stroked along hers when they were having bad times or 'reinforcement' training that left them both shaking in the aftermath. 

Their favorite spot, though hidden from prying eyes, was a small cave that happened to fit well into the training facility's high craggy cliff. Natalia often brought blankets she had woven warmth charms into or hot chocolate that never got cold, the last remnants of her time with Sibeal. 

Yakov never pressured her into wanting anything. He stated that as they were already prisoners of a sort that it made sense to be free to choose in all other things. 

"Yakov?" This time it was Natalia who had been 'reinforced', her body curled as tightly against Yakov's body heat as she could manage. "Do you know what love is?" 

"Love?" The soft blue gaze glazed over a bit as he searched what he could remember. "It's not much. 'Til the end of the line, a smile from someone I want to know but can't. I'm sorry." 

"No. It was silly to ask." Natasha protested softly. 

"Wasn't silly," Yakov countered, stronger than he has been in months. "Love's different for a lot of people. Sometimes it's physical, sometimes it's not." 

"And... us?" Natalia's voice wavered as she spoke

"I'd rather you make that choice on your own. I can't—" Yakov broke off with a muffled curse before he cradled her face within his hands, metal and flesh equally as intense as he looked her in the eyes. "You are precious to me. As fragile as this is, Natalia, I know we are each others' compass, the true North." 

"I don't know what I'm feeling but I know that I feel safe with you." She breathed back, the tender kiss to her forehead making something unfurl from a long sleep in her heart. It's light and breakable but it was a presence that she knew might outlast them. 

She had not yet learned that love was forbidden in a web of lies.

* * *

Natalia found out with a brutal clarity what the higher ups thought of her and Yakov when they took him away and punished her with watching as he screamed out in pain. His magic writhed just as much as his physical body and she bit the inside of her cheek until blood flooded her mouth. 

It was a particularly wretched scream that drove her to her knees. 

"Please we weren't doing anything." The glacial gaze of her superiors forced her hand. "Nothing physical, I swear." The second scream shattered the last of her resolve. "You can check. Please, please, _please_... Yakov, I'm sorry." Tears poured down her face as she was dragged away from the only other person to understand all of her without judging a single piece.

It was the last time she saw him; it would take over sixty years before the fragile thing they'd formed together had a chance to come to life again.

* * *

Natalia tied her pointé shoes with ease. She had worked hard to earn them, her body sleek and supple as she started her pliés. Natalia was one of 28 members of an elite ballet group but—also a member of a division of the KGB known as the Red Room. She's close to graduating, though the other graduates were forbidden to speak of what happened in that room. 

Part of her never wanted to know but it was either fail (and die, as the implication went) or live and graduate. She's heard it's painful. 

Pain she could deal with; she hated the future and the uncertainty it brought her. 

The initial number of 'classmates', nearly 40, has dwindled to a mere handful. Their instructor drove them harder, drove them until their bodies shook with fatigue long before their minds. 

Natalia bent under the training, swayed like reeds on a stormy night, but did not break. 

This was the last test given before they were to graduate. She spun flawlessly into the solo routine of Swan Lake, her muscles flexing as she danced her absolute best. When she finished on a delicate note all of her instructors looked just as pleased as she felt. 

"Now you must complete the other half." 

The other half was a man. He whispered sweet promises of a life in America, of wonderful places he could take her, the things he could buy for her... Natalia pretended to listen but her magic told her his words were bald lies. 

She leveled the gun she'd been handed at the beginning directly at head height, shooting him point blank, the viscera striking her face with some degree of force. Natalia kept a stony expression; much had transpired after she had been trained under the Asset (Yakov, her mind traitorously hissed). 

"One last thing and you will be our best and brightest Widow."

* * *

Red in her ledger, she told those she worked with later. A lie so bald she almost didn't say it half the time. 

Blood, what she told herself after a completed mission. A half-truth tainted in misery and water that swirled crimson down the drain. 

Life, her magic whispered late into the night. It was life she took, life she could give and life that stood in the balance every time her fingers tightened incrementally on the trigger, the Widow's Bite, the garrote, the knife— The truth, cold and absolute. 

She screamed sometimes, in the dead of night, hot tears pouring like a pressure release. With each successful mission without magic, she contemplated locking it away entirely. Legends didn't need help, after all; they never died. 

It seeped into every mission and every aspect of herself until she wanted to cry out that none of it was true. Her hope struggled to get free, a blistering crimson butterfly in all the carnage she became. 

She was so very tired of being a wind-up ballerina in a music box turning to the same old tune. Perhaps there was a release but Natalia did not see an end in sight...

* * *

**Mexico, 1989; Last Mission for the KGB**

Striking cobalt was the first thing she noticed as a sharp point was pressed against her temple. 

"Don't move." 

"And if I do?" She countered with a practiced tilt of her lips. The crimson butterfly in her heart fluttered madly, beating at the cage she'd surrounded it in with tattered wings.

"I shoot you. I'm supposed to have shot you 700 meters out but... I like you." came the teasing reply. 

"Does that mean something?" Natasha countered dryly. 

Hope. It had been so _long_ that the taste was almost sour-sweet on her tongue. 

"It sure does. Where did you get that pheonix feather?" The blue flared into almost glacial white as he looked her over with new eyes. "You're like me." 

"Merry meet," she breathed in Gaelic, the words almost lost to her in the intervening years and he cheerfully answered in the same language. 

"Merry part and merry meet again. I _do_ like you." He removed the arrow and tucked it into the hip quiver with effortless grace. "Clint." 

"... Natasha." They shook hands briefly enough to get a feel for one another. 

"I bet you're wondering why I just gave you part of my Name. Something tells me you're not gonna go for that three-inch blade strapped to your thigh, the 9 mm tucked against the small of your back or the longer dirk in your boot." Clint said in English with a shrug. "Gut feeling." 

"Premonition?" Natasha prodded for a coherent answer in the same language, feeling no need for the forced persona they'd thought up for her this time. 

"Telepathic empathy." Clint revealed the brightly burning sapphire rune on his lower eyelid. "Plus, why waste that?" He extended a covered forefinger and tapped at her sternum. "That butterfly sure looks tired." 

"What." Her voice went flat and Clint grinned brightly. 

"Hope. Sure is bright for being so battered. Emotions can... manifest for lack of a better word. Yours are pretty, not to mention very clear. Normally the most I get is this flash of stupid colors I have to interpret. So not helpful when you're a thousand yards out." Clint pulled her up then blew into his closed hand, opening it to reveal a bird made of air, the glistening magic nuzzling into Clint's palm. "Go tell Eagle Eyes that we found Coda Magia." 

He released her hand after she was upright and stable on her own two feet. 

"Coda Magia?" She questioned, feeling out of depth more now than she has in years. She doesn't like not knowing where she stands. "You're supposed to kill me." 

"We are so rare that anyone we find is usually brought into the fold. You do realize that little more than 1% of people are like us, right?" 

"So little. What happened to the Markets? The Summits—" Natasha spoke with hesitance at his assertion. 

"Markets? Summits? What kind of weird stuff are you talking about?" Clint asked as a sleek, dark shadow appeared to settle at Clint's feet. A Familiar by the feel of it but not what species of cat it was. "Dusk? What's a Market?"

 **Excuse this one. The nomadic ways of Western American covens do not allow for much in the way of Markets nor Summits. I assure you they are alive and well in Europe, Asia and Africa. We had a Familiar one in the Congo last year. This one's not as connected as he'd like to be.** The amused glint in the golden eyes told her much. The ache in her chest eased enough to allow her to summon Orel. 

The same piercing whistle resonated throughout the cold air and signaled a brightening that preceded her Familiar's arrival. 

_Merry meet,_ Orel chirruped at Dusk, earning a slight nod and a reply as he landed on Natasha's shoulder, the tail feathers draping over her shoulder and barely missing the ground with their length. 

**Merry part and merry meet again. It's nice to meet another Familar that can project.** Dusk murmured as two other people showed up in the dark, each bearing signs (however slight they may be compared to Clint) of a magic that sang to her senses. 

Perhaps this was the start to something new, a release from the magic box that had been her life for so long.

* * *

It was during the period of her adjustment to S.H.I.E.L.D. that she met Fury. After intense questioning, Natasha was seen stroking Orel's chest feathers on reflex as she took in the S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria with its beige and deep green walls that were meant to relax. 

"So you're the potential recruit?" The man that sat across from her with a tray in hand asked. 

"I am." She kept her reply short but the man's singular brown eye pinned her in place as effectively as if he'd done it physically. "Did you want something?" 

That, of all the things she could have said, seemed to make him lean back to take a bite of the sandwich on the tray. "No. Trying to figure out what Hawkeye saw that the rest of the men on mission didn't and if you are worth it in the long run." 

"Who are you to make such judgements? I know the Director is a woman." Natasha countered as she scratched under Orel's beak to get the last drizzles of peach juice out of his face feathers. Peaches were her Familiar's vice, more so because he was a divine being of magic. 

"Good question," the man remarked with a pleased expression. "Assistant Director Fury and I'll be moving into the position as soon as Director Carter decides she no longer wants to solve the problems of the world. Having met the Director, you can see how that might take a bit." 

"Of course." She had, in fact, been questioned by Director Carter. 

The presence Carter carried with her was something the KGB would have killed to get at; charisma often got the job done as much as training and back-up plans did. Natasha admired the Director for being as formidable as she was before handing Natasha a cup of tea to settle her stomach, reassuring Nat that she had made it in the room next door and would she like to look? 

"The Director told me to watch you but I doubt you'll get too far. She keeps an iron hold on all of the cameras and her agents are the best trained in S.H.I.E.L.D." 

"I will not be going anywhere. Could you get a peach for my bird?" Normally, Orel was glamoured to look like a large parrot. 

"Nice Familiar." Fury's eye glimmered faintly in the dull lighting. He'd had on such heavy shielding that she couldn't detect whether or not he was like her. 

"Is everyone here magical?" She questioned incredulously. Orel groomed himself as though he hadn't heard Fury's sly comment. Were they going to surprise her with more, trying to see if she would crack under the stress?

"The short answer is no. The long answer is we pick up the coven rejects, the solo users and those with incredible talents that usually turn out to be magically based. You just managed to run across most of them over the course of the last seventy-two hours." Fury summoned a peach from the whole fruits bar, presenting it to Orel with a respectful minor bow as they were sitting instead of standing. 

"They're curious about the new recruit, is all. It'll die down over the next week or so... If you stay that long. See you around." he added as Orel delicately ate the fruit on her shoulder by holding it in his left foot to bite into it without having any juice on her. 

"What if I don't stay?" She challenged. 

"Our resident precognative says you will." He fired back over his shoulder as he walked away.

* * *

When she was cleared to participate in missions, she and Clint were paired together with the hope that him sparing her life might have some effect on her. 

It did but she genuinely liked Clint as a person before she respected the mercy he'd shown her. Mercy in their line of work could get everyone killed, not just the one showing it.

They become a ruthless asset to S.H.I.E.L.D. in the blink of an eye, at least to her and Clint. Magic kept them young as well as vital when people younger than them dropped out due to exhaustion. Clint and Natasha were like shadows, striking like a snake and then watching the hemorrhage of information come forth (or blood if that was necessary).

* * *

Budapest. It goes down in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s records as one of the most pristine operations in their history. 

In fact the mission was the bloodiest Natasha had been in since she left the KGB for S.H.I.E.L.D. She and Clint come out of it coated in blood so thick, her hair blends with the rest of her suit with Clint's normally happy expression grim. 

The child slavery ring they'd been breaking up turned into a slaughter house once she and Clint knew what was going on. 

Their magic had been united in this, seeking out each of the founders of the ring and dragging them to the already blood-soaked floor of the auction room, Natasha standing with her eyes blazing a bright green. 

"You will pay for your crimes against innocents." She intoned with a flat voice. 

Clint followed with a shock arrow, no sympathy on his stony face. They pleaded, they _begged_ , but Magic was far from done with them. 

They joke about it later. It's a measure against which they test all other missions after it. Nothing came close to the carnage they, Coulson and May caused in their early years with S.H.I.E.L.D.

* * *

On a rare day off Clint took her out to spend it with his coven, the bright sparks of magic washing over her with welcome in its every note. 

"Clint, you didn't tell us she had fire." Diana spoke and moved her hands at the same time, using American sign language to communicate with him. The incidents of Clint not being able to hear her barked orders started to make more sense than they had previously. She dug through her Red Room training for the knowledge she knew she had. 

_So were you ever going to tell me?_ She signed pointedly while the carnies practiced their acts. 

Clint winced and sighed as he scrubbed at the back of his neck. "I used a sonic arrow to blow out my eardrums so I wouldn't hurt my ex-wife anymore than I already had. The sound wave was designed to be irresistible as long as you could hear it and... It made you kill the one you loved the most. I couldn't do it so I purposefully made myself deaf." 

_That was an asshole move from me._

**No. I should have told you after the first few missions where you got in front of me so I could read your lips when you realized I couldn't hear you.** Clint's hands moved quickly, more comfortable than he was with talking. There was a fluidity to his movements that Natasha, for all of her training, struggled to mimic. **You sign pretty well and understand a lot. How I move comes with a crap ton of practice. Wanna do it until it feels like breathing?**

The bright grin he directed at her made her chest feel warmer than it has in decades. 

_I would like nothing more._

* * *

They integrate the signing into the mission when they can see each other and develop their own pidgin form with glowing sigils that take a fraction of a second to read but contained a wealth of information that only they knew. 

Coulson, for being a mundane as well as their handler, managed to pick out which meant danger and which meant that they had to pull out of the location because they had all been spotted by the target or they all needed to move to the fourth or fifth safe house down the list as a precaution. 

It became strictly magical S.H.I.E.L.D. mandated, the files something no mundane (aside from Coulson) or magical had access to aside from those with Fury's level of clearance. 

The system was key to avoiding any collateral damage to civilians or those of other agencies.

* * *

Natalie (another alias) watched the way Tony Stark interacted with Colonel Rhodes. He herded Stark from general to press to television host and back again with a deft touch, hand pressed against the small of Stark's back when the younger man's expression shifted to something less than a smile. 

It was intensely intimate, almost uncomfortably so for her, faint memories of Yakov causing her to sigh quietly. Pepper Potts observed them both with a calm, partially amused expression as she manipulated the board into choosing the option she wanted with words. The curve of her lips spell a victory for her and defeat (yet again) for the board members. Natalie will have to remember some of this when she's Natasha again. 

She trusted that Nick, who turned out to be an excellent springboard for her more complex identities and an exceptional support system, knew what he was doing. The ambient magic inherent in Stark's reactor trailed glowing blue that even the most inexperienced could track. There was also the bit where the palladium was killing Stark slowly but surely, seeing as it was an element common in most draining spells and was stealing Stark's unique magic.

* * *

"Nick, he's been drinking the resurgence potion but it isn't enough to counter the palladium anymore. I think we have to pull you in." She admitted as she stretched out on the bed in her relaxing gear, phone pressed to her ear as she sharpened her four inch blade on the whetstone Clint had given her for her (fake) birthday. Natasha was _definitely_ getting Clint that arrow extension kit from S.H.I.E.L.D. R &D as a favor owed to her for simple charms. 

"Damn. Here I was hoping that his magic would overpower the absorption rate." Nick sighed heavily as he stirred his nightcap of Lady Grey and cream. "Do the others even have an inkling?" 

"Colonel Rhodes might. The stunt with the suit got his attention faster than anything else," Natasha murmured as she thought over the past few weeks. "Potts might suspect something is going on but not what. I like her. Why don't we have a Ms. Potts?" 

"Because Coulson would get offended you even suggested her for S.H.I.E.L.D." Nick dryly snarked and both of them snorted, followed by genuine laughter. "Alright, we'll get him on track enough to heal his own magic." 

"How are they holding up with the thing in New Mexico?" She switched topics, knowing that Nick had a short temper for the elder Stark and an even shorter one for Stark the Younger. 

"Busy. Apparently Norse gods do exist." 

"Magic does," She pointed out as she tested the edge of the blade on her thumb and watched as her magic healed the thin slice before the blood even welled up. "Why not gods too?" 

Nick sighed at her pragmatic answer. "No shit. Anything else weird on that front?" 

"Hammer is an idiot. I would watch him." she murmured as she put away her kit. 

"Already on it."

* * *

Even though Stark called her a triple-agent, he figured out how to cure himself. She allowed a spark of her magic past her shields and Stark gaped at her. 

"Magic too, huh? Is that why you put Iron Man yes, me no?" 

"Far from it. Your magic is something new and while I trust S.H.I.E.L.D. with many things, you are not one of them." She murmured dryly as she waited for him to catch onto what she was trying to tell him. 

"J, Encryption Level 8." 

"Of course Master Stark." JARVIS closed the windows and Stark lit up the area with magelight, the orbs bright and steady. They flicker so Stark's core has yet to fully heal but he is well on his way. 

"Why don't you trust S.H.I.E.L.D. with me?" 

"For the same reason Margaret Carter refused to put your name into the files that only those with magic can access; Project Paperclip." 

"What, you mean all those scien-" Stark blurted out with wide eyes. 

"I mean we're taking precautions. Fury thinks there's something rotten in Denmark, he's just not sure who or when." Natasha countered as she threw up magelights of her own. "And we can't let them get the armor." 

"Oh. That I can do." 

"You are something else, Stark. Keep a hold on it." 

"Lemme guess, hold onto Rhodey and Pep too, right?" 

"Goes without saying, Stark. I thought you knew that one already," She quietly remarked as she slipped away to report this particular conversation to just Nick. 

"Hey!" The indignant tone had her shaking her head as she went to hand in her resignation as Pepper had asked.

* * *

**America, 2012; Battle of New York**

She fought through her pain, absolute agony radiating up her leg from her likely broken ankle; in that state due to the chase she'd lead the Hulk on through the Helicarrier's delicate wiring. Natasha emptied her clips into the oncoming Chitauri before she ducked behind a car to catch her breath. She would have to steal one of those staffs they wielded to have the upper hand. Time to use the last Widow's Bite if she wanted one. 

Gripping her lower leg, she snapped it back in place with a muffled scream as she bit into her shoulder. Blood trickled down her face, her lips and now her shoulder as she contemplated releasing all of her shields and fighting at her dirtiest. 

"Romanov, if you have anything left up your sleeve use it!" Rogers yelled down the comm.s as he decapitated a Chitauri with a perfect spin. "That goes for everyone; they're breaking the three-block radius." 

"On it." She answered and she heard Clint whoop loudly at the blanket permission. They were going to show the other world just exactly what they were messing with. 

Power crackled along the street, red and black streaks of lightning exploding from her in an immense wave. 

"Here, Loki! Come for me!" Natasha taunted as she pulsed another wave of raw magic from her core. 

"How?!" The astonished snarl had her baring her teeth at the god. "What is going on?!" 

"Earth has some bite to her yet," she spat as two other shockwaves of magic swept over her senses; Clint and—

Rogers was glowing _gold_ , striking at the invaders so hard they flew back into the portal with broken bodies and blocked the way partially. Thor looked at them with new respect in his gaze especially when Clint lit a Chitauri on fire with a magical arrow, his quiver completely empty as he shot arrow after arrow into the oncoming hoard without tiring. 

Natasha turned on the flames within her, her arms engulfed in a mass of black and red flames that exploded the Chitauri she came into contact with while she fought her way back towards the three-block radius. Ashes swept behind her as the wind from Clint's arrows licked at her open flames in a reassuring manner. 

Rogers boosted her onto one of the Chitauri vehicles that took her up to Stark Tower, her body spinning in a tight spiral as she gripped the edge of the building to launch herself to the roof. She extinguished her flames halfway up to make sure the portion she grabbed wouldn't prove to be her downfall. 

"I can shut it down! Can anyone read me?" The blitz of noise was pierced by a familiar voice. 

"Hold it! I've got something that should stop the invasion." Stark's voice is strained and Natasha's eyes went wide as she saw _**what**_ Stark was carrying up into the portal that had torn open the sky. 

"Stark?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You know they love you." 

"... Of course." He flew up and the Chitauri crashed into the city one by one as the bomb exploded inside the portal. Just as Natasha was about to reach into the rapidly shrinking dark spot, Stark fell through and didn't stop falling. 

Three separate magic streams caught him and lowered him enough that the Hulk could get him safely to the ground. 

Hulk roared out his concern, grunting as Stark (Tony, really) gasped in a breath. 

"Please tell me nobody kissed me?" 

"We leave that to your significant other." she snorted out as she wiped at the blood drying on the corner of her mouth. 

"Who's up for shwarma?" All of them broke into slightly hysterical laughter at his quip, the matter of containing Loki and cleaning up the mess at a distance for now.

* * *

Natasha was surprised to see Rogers at her door in decent clothing, carrying a bag of food and a coffee that smelled heavenly. 

"Heard from a little bird that you miss the Markets. We got one in Brooklyn if you wanna go take a look?" Rogers offered with a warm, tentative smile. "You don't even have to get all fancy. Magic users there are a bit... laissez faire. You'll see. Oh! They've got a park for Familiars if you have one." The waving hands and the bright cerulean eyes are not the same but a glimpse of what looked (for a fleeting moment) like Yakov was burned into her memory. 

"Can I call you Natasha?" The earnest blue gaze snapped her out of her fugue and she nodded. 

"Come in. Orel, be nice." 

_I'm always nice._ Orel kreeled indignantly as he arranged his feathers just-so, his crest arched high in a display of appeal. _Hello Captain._

"Hello Honored One," Rogers gave Orel a respectful bow and turned his wrist while fanning his fingers to reveal a peach that glimmered gold in the right lighting. "Blessed be." 

_Nat, can we keep this one? He knows the Old Ways._

She couldn't help the laughter that escaped her even as she closed the door to get dressed. 

"You said that about Nick." Natasha snorted as she snagged the coffee from Rogers on their way out of her apartment. 

_Still true._

* * *

**America, 2012; Brooklyn's Magical Market**

Orel saved the peach, setting it amongst his nest of things he'd gotten from others over the years. He was staying home to take a nap because of his efforts in restoring her depleted core after the battle and the slow recovery since then. 

The entrance to the Market made her shake her head a little. The tiny shop was a front, the entrance going all the way into an enormous Market with languages from across the world sounding out as they stepped across the boundary between mundane Brooklyn and magical Brooklyn. 

"Rogers! I thought I told you never to set—Oh my, things have changed in the past few years." 

"Fergus... It's been about seventy years on that side since I stepped over. A lot more than me has changed." Rogers told the shocked Fae in front of him. "There's almost too much Cold Iron for _me_ to live there, let alone any of the residents here." 

"If it's too much for you, son, then come live as you once did." Fergus softened in a way she suspected few Fae ever did. Rare to begin with, the Fae never interfered directly with the world of human magic after the Great Fire of London. 

(Rumor had it that the fire had been started by a human with a grudge against the mostly Fae-run Markets.) 

"Son?" 

"Not here," Rogers went up on his tip-toes with his entire body flexing to stay that way until he spotted what he'd been looking for. Quite a few of the Fae were eyeing them both with appreciation, the reflection in their eyes similar to Dusk's. Now that she'd noticed... Rogers had a faint reflection but not as much as the Fae they were currently seeing. 

He guided her through the crowd, slipping around their fellow patrons like smoke to stop at a particular place along the winding Market roads. Natasha felt completely at home, despite the fact that she hadn't been to a Market since she'd been taken from Sibeal. 

" _Titania's Little Bits and Bobs_?" She read off the hanging sign above the small shop, her lips pulling up into an amused smile. 

"Listen, Titania can be... intense. She's a precognizant Fae and always has been." Rogers pinned her with a serious gaze. "It's Steve by the way. Seriously, I can feel when you use my last name." 

"You can?" 

"It is part of my True Name, so... Yeah, I can." Steve shrugged as he snagged a cookie from a floating tray. "It has all of your favorites." 

She peered at the magical shielding and grabbed one on impulse, biting down into Sibeal's soft cookies from the cottage oven that was a distant memory. Natasha hummed around her mouthful with approval. She barely swallowed the bite, seeing as how the Fae Steve wanted her to meet stepped out into the light. 

Sibeal.

Part of her was frozen by the memories they'd made together but the other part happened to be incandescent fury at being left to rot in the Red Room. 

" _You_ —" Her voice cracked due to her indecision between being angry or crying harder than she ever had in her life.

* * *

"My little firebird." The bright green eyes were exactly the same, down to the crows feet that only showed when she smiled. "There you are. I was beginning to wonder if my boy would bring you here at all." 

"Sibeal, what... How?" Natasha blurted out in utter confusion. 

"I'm the Fae Queen." She explained and oh. _Oh._ That explained why she wasn't able to interfere, to help Natasha in her hour of need. No one was more bound to the Rules that kept Fae in order than their ruler. "You had to ask for my help." 

"I came..." 

"So close, child, believe me I know." Sibeal sighed as she engulfed Natasha in a hug that smelled so heartbreakingly familiar that she came very close to tears. "Steve, this is my old protégé Nat. Nat, this is my grandson." 

"Grandma..." Steve groaned as he face-palmed. "I was gonna tell her that." 

"That you're the last of the line of Oberon and Titania?" Sibeal countered. 

"That'd go over _swell_." Steve snarked back and Natasha saw Sibeal smile at his sass. "Hi, I'm Steve Rogers, currently in line for the Fae Throne and oh, I'm taking you to see my Grandma. No, this isn't a proposal." 

"It does have some flair," Sibeal pointed out as she reluctantly loosened her hold on Natasha to get the whistling tea kettle. 

Natasha rose a brow as Sibeal left to make tea. "Is that part of the reason why that Fae offered to take you in?" 

"One of them, I guess. I'm not like most Fae; I can... bend the rules a bit. Mam used to let me summon things for the Fae that they couldn't get on their own since most of them aren't powerful enough to even cross the border." Steve admitted as he pulled down three mugs for the tea. "You already know the reason, right?" 

"You're half-Fae, half-human." Natasha stated with a nod to his eyes. "The reflection's not as strong as it is with the full Fae." 

"Got it," Steve sighed as he poured cream into two of the cups, hovering over the third which was for her. 

Natasha nodded silently as she took in the shop. Traditional spell workings scrolled along the edges of the exposed golden woodwork. The runes glittered silver as drying and dried herbs (tied with appropriate magical colors) hung from the beams in a display she knew was meant to entice.

It was homey, cluttered and nothing like her own semi-empty apartment. She briefly contemplated moving back in with Clint, Dusk, Kate and Lucky but dismissed it sharply in the next second. Orel and Dusk got along fine but it was Lucky, as sweet as he was, that drove the decision. He always wanted to play with Orel's long tail feathers, tugging on them with too much force, seeing as he was a perfectly regular dog with no concept of leaving an angry pheonix alone.

"Ruble for your thoughts?" Sibeal prodded as Natasha breathed in the green scents of the place. She accepted the tea and watched as Steve greeted customers with sweet smiles and genuine compliments. "He is a good person first and foremost. Rare in a Fae, you know." 

"They search for someone of value that they can use to their own benefit." she murmured with a teasing tone and Sibeal (Titania but Natasha's mind refused the name) nodded in agreement. "But... Not with us." 

"No, not with you nor ever with my grandson. Freely-given anything has always been more powerful. Love is the best a Fae can ask for; both you and Steve gave it unconditionally and still do." She divulged with a companionable nudge. "You're welcome back at any time." 

"I'll keep that in mind." Natasha replied as she cradled her cup and soaked in the sunlight, a small part of her at peace here in this bustling place with an old friend and perhaps a new one in the making.

* * *

**America, 2014, D.C.; Revelation of HYDRA within S.H.I.E.LD.**

Captain and Widow. The Shadow and the Golden Poster Boy; all of the nicknames only highlight the differences bewteen Natasha and Steve, though it doesn't stop them from working as a unit. If anything, their operations run smoothly and they are in and out in less time than it would take a traditional S.H.I.E.L.D. team. 

The retrieval of the information is coordinated down to the last second, Steve anticipating Natasha's next move as she does the same for him. Both of them ducked the grenade while Steve threw it back in less time than it took to process the weapon was in thier general vicinity. 

Returning to the Triskelion, Nick revealed that the part that he'd long suspected was hiding was now more active than ever. That they were to be as careful as they could to make sure they were not suspected from the inside portion. 

The peace shattered with a single event that shocked Natasha as much as it did the other members of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Nick Fury, her confidant, her closest friend and her leader... died.

* * *

Nick's death broke something in her that she thought hadn't been there in the first place, that the Red Room had beaten it out of her at long last. It hadn't; she could still feel sorrow, feel the ache in her throat as she wielded her training like a blade that defended and attacked at once. 

Natasha kept up her brittle mask of pleasantries until Camp Lehigh. She sobbed into Steve's shoulder as he held the debris away from them with trembling arms and the advantage of the vibrainum shield. 

Steve comforted her as best he could without breaking their shelter, pillowing his cheek against her hair, quietly reciting prayers in Gaelic which switched to blessings and eventually magical education rhymes that she had learned from Sibeal at a young age. 

Natasha joined him until they could slip away from the HYDRA agents still after them, her voice hoarse as she raised it in a song of rememberance.

* * *

Exhaustion drove them to seek out the soldier Steve had met while running. 

"Everyone we know is trying to kill us," Steve blurted and the man opened his door a little wider. 

"Not everyone." 

They wiped their boots to step inside and that was when they felt the heavy Wards buried into the walls. 

"Magic." She inhaled the scent of relaxing herbs and gave an aborted laugh. "Even in our darkest time..."

"I think Grandma helped us out. I didn't hold it by myself." Steve muttered under his breath. 

"Okay, can you explain the 'everyone is trying to kill us' bit before you explain the thickest shields I've seen since Afghanistan? Sam, by the way, Sam Wilson." Sam introduced himself to her with a genuine smile. 

"Natasha Romanov." They shook hands and the spark that traveled up her arm made her give the faintest upturn of her lips, feeling slightly rejuvenated. 

"It turned out that HYDRA never really ended..." Steve explained as Natasha slipped away to sink down against a wall to process everything.

* * *

Her heart caught in her throat when she shot the mask off of the Winter Soldier. _Yakov._ Steve spoke a different name, however and she suddenly understood why Sweetheart had been so upset with him all those years ago. 

Yakov and Bucky were one and the same. 

When he attacked her she tried to plead with him. 

"Yakov, remember!" She barked in Russian, trying to trigger the runes she'd tucked under his skin right before the metal arm during their last time together. "Steve, keep it up. There are activation runes on him. Keep talking to him and break the control!" Natasha relayed in Gaelic, prompting a flicker of recognition in the terrified blue eyes. 

"Bucky, you gotta break whatever they told you." Steve fought with Yakov/Bucky, the knife ringing as it struck the shield over and over again. "Your name is James Buchanan Barnes—" 

"Who the hell is Bucky?" He snarled back, "There is no one named Yakov."

* * *

Maria rescued them and brought them to a figure Natasha had sworn breathed his last in front of her. 

He still looked ill so she refrained from punching him in the face just yet. 

"You died." Natasha accused coldly and knew by his flinch that he had not intended to hurt her like he did. 

"Temporarily. Banner made a chemical that brought the heart rate so low as to fake death. It's been around since Victorian times, he just refined it to be better. Any news?" Nick spoke quietly as he looked them over, bedraggled as they were. 

"Bucky's alive." 

"With no idea who he is or who he has been for the last seventy years." She sighed heavily in addition. "I knew him as the Asset in the Red Room. I think they brainwashed him into thinking he has no identity." The next bit was controversial even in the magic-using community. "I rigged a memory set up in case the KGB decided to... pit us against one another as a test of our abilities. What they'd do to him—are probably **still** doing to him right at this moment—isn't pleasant in any way." 

"Is that what we were trying to activate on the bridge?" Steve asked as Natasha sketched out the set she'd imbued a long time ago. 

"Yes. He remembered _something_ , though I cannot say for sure what we prompted. We have to get him back." 

"How?" Steve questioned. "He was... is my best pal. I'd like him back." 

"I'm not sure he's the kind you save." Sam gave his input and Natasha considered the potential downfalls of getting him to remember at a critical moment. 

"Maybe not," she admitted as she outfitted herself with weaponry, sparing a glance at the outfit for her to wear. Her mission was entirely different from Sam and Steve's though just as vital to their efforts if they pulled it off correctly. 

"We gotta try anyway." came the stubborn response from the half-Fae, as she knew it would.

* * *

Aftershocks of HYDRA within S.H.I.E.L.D. would reverberate for decades while they rebuilt it from the ashes. Natasha's secrets were now public, every last one... except for the fact that a good quarter of S.H.I.E.L.D. were magic users, including her. 

Well that and the fact that she'd been involved at one point with the Winter Soldier. Two secrets in a world now full of all her others. It was almost civilian of her, the way she was now. 

HYDRA had never sunken its claws into the magical portion of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents because it was nearly impossible to sway them from something once it had earned their loyalty. It helped, of course, that they'd been issued lie detecting pendants as part of their standard uniforms along with the magical signing that she and Clint had perfected over the last few decades. 

As soon as she was free of the entanglements in court (and she would be as Fae lawyers were notorious for freeing even the most guilty of parties), she would be joining Sam and Steve in finding Yakov/Bucky. There was no way in _hell_ she had any intention of being left out of that search.

* * *

**The Case of Bucky Barnes and/or Yakov Sabatin**

"In the wild (aka a city), Bucky Barnes' are surprisingly easy to track. It's getting ahold of them after they have been spotted several times that's the difficult trick." 

Natasha narrated to her companions as they waited outside of the café Yakov had been sitting for the last ten minutes. Sam almost snorted out his rootbeer and Steve definitely giggled into his coffee. 

"Maybe... Maybe they're like squirrels," Steve mimicked the squirrels around them as he imitated the slow, cautious approach. Natasha froze minutely as Yakov exited the café and headed straight for them. "Or—Hey." The soft look he got when he saw Yakov was picture-worthy, Sam sneaking a pic while pretending to take a selfie. "You need more time?" 

"No." Yakov's eyes were clear and bright as he leaned down, hovering just a centimeter above Steve's lips. "You remember that dare right before we invaded that second-to-last HYDRA base?" 

"Yeah," Steve managed after a swallow that they can all hear. "Kiss in front of the platoon if we won that one too." 

"Well soldier are you gonna go back on your promise?" He challenged and Steve lunged up to meet his lips, parting the kiss to cup each other's cheeks with a tenderness she's seen once from them both. 

Yakov glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and stroked his thumb along Steve's cheek before he turned his full attention to her. "Now that we are free enough to make our own choices, I can't thank you enough for keeping me who I was with your runes. Do you still want what we had and maybe more now that we're here?" 

She nodded and met him halfway her eyes slipping closed of their own volition as she's drawn into the kiss. When she opened them again they were nose to nose, laughing about absolutely nothing. 

He stroked back her flyaway hairs coming out of her rockabilly style and touched his forehead to hers with a warm look. "Psst, who's the extra cute guy sitting with you?" 

"Why don't you go ask him?" She prompted with a teasing reply. 

"I think I just might." Yakov purred as he sauntered over to a stunned Sam. "Heya handsome." 

"Umm..." Yakov whispered something to Sam that made him grin wide and accept the peck on the cheek. "Sure."

* * *

Making what they had took cohesive work, often resulting in stiff tensions that one of them broke with kisses or a long talk. 

She doesn't like to admit to the nightmares. None of them do but all of them wake up when a blood-curdling scream resounded through their shared space. It's Sam this time, shaking like the hounds of hell are after him. 

Natasha waved the other two off as she made them both hot cocoa (the one drink none of them can associate with torture, death or bad moments) before settling down on the other end of the couch. She tucked her leg under her and turned on a mindless children's show with little-to-no-violence. Giant robots trampled across the screen as Sam watched it with a glazed expression. 

Sam licked his lips, taking a long drink of the cocoa before speaking. "Nat." 

"Yes Sam?" 

"Can we talk?" 

"Of course." She waited for him to shuffle over to her, the blankets draped over them both as he cradled his mug. Sometimes none of them wanted to be touched so it was an exercise in patience to get them to cuddle. "Riley or..." 

"You," Sam murmured as he curled around her, putting his cup down to hold her after nonverbally asking if she was okay with it. "You were dying. Choking on your own blood with no magic in me to heal or save. I couldn't help you." 

"I have similar ones." She replied quietly, pressing her cheek to his scuffy one. "Ones where I fail to get to you on time. Ones where I'm..." Killing you all. She doesn't have to complete the sentence because he knows it too. 

"Yeah. Those are full of extra suck." Sam whispered as he ran his hand up and down her arm. "But you're here. You're not bleeding out under my hands. Just a bad dream, right?" His voice wavered on the last part. 

"Right." She guided his hand to rest over her chest, the steady pulse of both magic and her heart making Sam breathe a sigh of relief. "Better?" 

"A little." 

"Do we need a cuddle pile?" She was about to reach for Steve's magic when Sam shook his head. 

"Just... Just us for a while. That okay?" 

"Perfectly fine." She leaned back against him as heavily as she could, making sure he could feel every last thing about her. 

They fall asleep on the couch, waking up to Yakov's soft singing and the smell of breakfast.

* * *

She and Steve go back to the Brooklyn Market together as a thing for just them, though Bucky (he'd finally declared a prefered name) took Sam down to the wharf in the Market to show him the Merfolk clans. A quiet place to relax and recharge in pairs because sometimes the other two needed a break. 

Sibeal roped them into helping with customers and Natasha perfected her haggling with the Elder Fae that liked to come in to see Steve (only Steve, never Sibeal). 

"Where is Steven?" The Erlking imperiously questioned as he stalked through Sibeal's tiny shop. 

"Having tea with his grandmother," Natasha blocked his round towards the pocket dimension kitchen where Steve liked to chit-chat with his grandparents with a saccharine smile that never got to her eyes. 

"I do not understand why a mortal like you has access to our Ruler and her offspring." He grumbled as he shuffled to the opposite side of the shop. "I need to get something and only he can help." 

"What is it? I might be able to assist you." 

"No, I need something Fae-made. It is... rather _urgent_." The Erlking sighed heavily as inky hair spilled over sharply-tipped ears. "I do not like being so clear about it but this child will not survive another night in his household should I wait. I cannot make the Door as I could have in the past. There is far too much Cold Iron these days." 

"What about the Goblin King?" She suggested and the Erlking hissed irritably. 

"Of no practical use at the time," came the frustrated reply. "Some idiot has wished away a child again." 

"I'll go get him then. Do you need Her Majesty as well?" she questioned. 

"No. I owe her much already. Steven's price is one I can pay should he ask it of me." The Erlking shook his head at her assessment. 

"Should he ask it of you?" 

"He is, as I understand it, much more human than Fae and will not ask a terribly humiliating price." 

"I will not. Changeling?" Steve's entire body shifted to the regal aspect he hid from the rest of the world, eyes bright with knowledge that he held and his body more Fae than ever. 

"If it is within your power, Prince Steven." 

"Address?" 

The Erlking rattled off an address in Hell's Kitchen. "He is perfect for joining the Hunt, though I would not ask it of him for many mortal years." 

"A potential? Then I think it best you retrieve him yourself. I can bend your Door to my will and you should be able to do what is needed." Steve opened a Door to the place the Erlking needed to get to, placing a dross changeling in place of the pained human child. "My price, Erlking?" 

"I will do as you ask." The Erlking promised fervently as he gingerly cradled the child. The Fae's sharp features softened as the human child curled into his embrace. 

"Raise the boy, raise him well and... perhaps make him a Knight of your Hunt? It would do your elder Knights some good to teach what they have learned over the years." Steve softened at the sight the Elder Fae and the human made. 

"A price well-spoken, Prince. I would speak of your fair dealing with your permission." The Erlking held the human boy with a tenderness that the child probably hadn't experienced in some time. 

"You may. Leave us." 

"As you command," The Erlking spun in his cloak and left behind a token of gratitude as he left for his own plane of existence. 

"Grandma might appreciate this," Steve plucked the enormous ruby from the shop's floor and weighed it in his hand. "Hmm." 

"Steve?" 

"The Erlking doesn't like to be beholden to anyone and yet... This is a sincere Gift of reality-warping proportions. Think I'll give it to Sam." 

"Sam?" Natasha asked as she stroked a finger along the glimmering edge. She had a similar emerald from the Goblin King to use as she wished for helping him out months ago. 

"Who better to give it to? Sam's a genuine person and he won't abuse it." He countered and she mulled it over. 

"You're looking for a sapphire for Bucky, aren't you?" Natasha teased quietly. 

"There are naiads and Merfolk who need my help too." Steve pouted but she understood that gemstones held meanings to Fae that they didn't to humans. "I don't like holding onto favors anyway. That's Grandma's job." 

"Another favor?" Sibeal chuckled as she looked it over. "For the one who communes with birds. An excellent choice." 

"The Erlking is tied to nature and I know Sam complains that the birds can't understand one another but can understand him. Maybe it'll help." Steve tucked the ruby into a magically sound pouch and into his pocket. 

"It should," Sibeal pecked Steve on the cheek and Natasha on the forehead before they leave for the night. "Blessed be."

* * *

**Six Months into the Relationship**

Bucky caught her hand with his metal one, his gaze saying far more than his mouth will in the moment. 

"Is this a cocoa or coffee?" Cocoa meant nightmares; coffee meant that the matter was complicated and required a thorough talk. 

"Coffee. Just us, Sam and Steve are napping," Bucky glanced at the tangle of limbs on the couch, Sam's face pressed into Steve's broad shoulder as they slept on. "About the runes... Here." Bucky tugged aside his tank top to reveal the glowing blue symbols surrounding his metal arm where skin met silver. "Can I remove them?" 

"I used Fae runes. I have no idea what would happen if I removed the set but I'll do it if you want me to." Natasha answered honestly.

"You mean... I might lose who I am?" His lips pressed thin at the thought. 

"Or nothing will happen at all. We can try." She suggested and he frowned. 

"What do they mean? Can it hurt me?" Bucky questioned as he poked at the runeset with his free hand. They shimmered and reformed after he was done poking at them. 

"No. The set only means rememberance, sense of self and the values inherent in a person. It was to make sure neither of us ever killed the other on the orders of the KGB or an outside influence." She drew out the set as she'd made it, marking where the magic had settled on Bucky. "I have one too. I was going to tell you about it but they took you away from me before I could." 

"Insurance that we would survive," he murmured quietly. "Does it drain anything?" 

"No. It draws on the ambient magic in the air, the ground... It can also rely on the magic that trails a person if they aren't shielded but only what they disperse into the world." She explained while working on a quickset that revealed where the magic was coming from. Faint blue trails came from Sam, Steve and even the outside, the shimmer showing a sky full of magic. She canceled the quickset with a wiggle of her fingers that made Bucky smile. 

"Can we make some?" 

"I suppose. Who for?" Natasha asked but had a feeling she knew. 

"Sam and Steve. With their permission, I mean." Bucky glanced back at them with a soft look that made her smile. "Think maybe we could rework it for the rest of the team too." 

"If they want one. I'll have to check with Sibeal to make sure there are no ill-effects if you do want it removed." She murmured thoughtfully before flicking her fingers to summon her cup of coffee to her hand, stirring the spoon with her fingertip not touching it as she looked the set over again. 

"Sibeal?" 

"The one who taught me everything I know. She's related to Steve." Natasha explained and Bucky summoned his own coffee from the kitchen, the magic pouring out the correct amount while the milk floated out of the fridge. It uncapped, poured and then recapped before returning to the fridge. 

Sam rubbed at his eyes, having wriggled his way out of Steve's python hold with a few well-placed kisses. He shuffled into the kitchen and sat in Natasha's lap to steal some of her coffee. She let him do it, an arm curling around Sam's waist to support him as he woke up from his nap. "Hey. Am I too heavy?" 

"Not in the least," she reassured as he peppered her jawline and her cheek with tiny kisses. "Did you have any plans other than lazing with Steve?" 

"Mmm, not really? Was gonna coax Bucky into trying that new place on the corner." Sam held her cup in his hands and a frission of sweet, sharp _something_ fluttered in her chest. She refused to label it but she knew exactly what it was as she drew Sam down for a kiss. "You want to come with?" 

"Is it fancy?" 

"Nah," Sam slid his free hand into Natasha's thick waves, the tips massaging her scalp as he sipped some more coffee. "Just some pizza spot." 

"So that's where Sam went. I see how it is," Steve curled around Bucky, one hand over Bucky's heart as he grinned. 

"Nat gives me caffeine." Sam blew a raspberry at Steve and earned one in return. Bucky traded an amused glance with Natasha as he distracted Steve from devolving it into a pillow fight; thier last set had exploded over the living room and they were **still** finding feathers tucked into the couch crevasses.

* * *

Sibeal frowned as she examined the rune set on Bucky's arm, her eyes glowing a swirling silvery green. 

"This was woven with intent. It is Nat's magic and you are linked but..." 

"But what?" Bucky asked quietly, his eyes showing the strain of being touched by someone unfamiliar to him. 

"You are also linked thoroughly to my grandson and that nice gentleman running my shop." 

"I don't understand." 

"Call your Familiar. Other than that, yes, this can be removed without consequence other than a brief disorientation." Sibeal determined as she snapped out of her magical fugue state. 

"What's my Familiar got to do with it?" He questioned as Natasha helped him out of the squashy green chair. 

"You will have to see for yourself," she pointed out as she slipped through the pocket-dimension to tell Sam he could leave. Steve snickered as Sibeal poked her head back into the dimension and said, "Steven, pry the Fae away from your very human, very sweet boyfriend before he charms them into buying a third of my crystal stock." 

"Can do, Grandma. Let's see if we can't uncharm those poor Fae..." He laughed as he slipped through.

* * *

Bucky whistled for his Familiar, the bright clear sound heard for miles. Natasha heard a brief _KEE-YAAR_ before Sam stepped in the way. Sweetheart whipped passed them at the last second, her eyes glowing bright gold. 

"Redwing, whoa, calm down—He's what?" Sam held her to his chest as she kre-eed and peeped. "She says you're the one she's been looking for... for the last seventy years." 

"The last time I summoned her was in 1945 with Natasha's help. Sweetheart, I'm so sorry." Bucky's expression made Natasha want to reach out to him. 

"She said, 'You always apologize. Think of something else.'" Sam murmured with a teasing tone, trying to elevate the mood. 

"I know I'm late. Can you forgive me?" Bucky reached out with his meal hand in case she tried to nip him. She leaned into the touch, nipping at the half-glove Bucky wore to keep other people's hands warm. "You've been looking for a long time now. I'm not going anywhere for a long while if that helps?" He shared holding duty with Sam, both of them fixing the hawk's stray feathers as they listened to her. 

"Nat, do you think Orel would mind sharing his perch with our Familiar?" Sam asked after a while, patting at the curled claws of Redwing and leaving her to Bucky's adoring attentions. 

"Of course not. He's been complaining that he's being left alone too much." She replied, laughing as her pheonix nipped at her ear for that. 

_I have not, Sam. I merely stated that there are far too many humans and not enough birds._ Orel sniffed as he turned his beak up at Natasha'a offer of a peach slice. He looked around before nabbing it from her fingers, gently nuzzling at the spot he'd nipped earlier. _But she is right. I do get lonely._

"Redwing's been nesting in the trees outside. She'll appreciate the company." Sam mentioned as Orel preened while Sam stroked along his crest and then down to fluff up the chest feathers. Her pheonix crooned at the attention, his enormous tail length curling around Sam's wrist and her bird happily leaning into the touch. 

Steve kept his distance from them and Natasha reached out with her free hand to pull him close. 

"Fae don't have Familiars and I'm not human enough to attract one. It's a little... bittersweet to see you three enjoying them sometimes." Steve revealed as he reached for Orel. Her Familiar didn't flinch from Steve and even peeped demandingly when his fingers left his feathers. 

"Well, these ones like you," She murmured as Redwing fluttered the short distance to Steve's arms and kee-eed until he stroke his broad hand across her wings. "That much you know."

* * *

Going after the HYDRA cells and pockets became a priority once Bucky had regained who he was. He paced in their apartment, restless after he realized what had to be done. 

"Bucky, go." Steve finally threw up his hands in defeat after the week of pacing. "Go kick their asses, bring us back some news. Hell, we'll go with you. Just say the word and we're mobile." 

Bucky's head snapped up from where he was scanning a map, halting mid-stride. "You... You'd come with me? All of you?" 

"In a heartbeat," Natasha answered as she looked up from her tea. "We've been packed for days." 

"Yup. All I gotta do is let my job know we're going and I'm good. Steve?" Sam added with a shrug as he stretched over his steaming mug of coffee. 

"I got my barbershop quartet right here. You guys do realize I have over sixty-something years worth of back pay from the military, right? I'm not, y'know, Stark or anything but I'm ready to go when you are." Steve mentioned casually. "Plus we can travel through the Markets instead of flying." 

"What about...?" Here Bucky wiggled his fingers and Steve snorted. "What? What's so funny, punk?" 

"If you can get through the Brooklyn hub, one of the toughest and most Cold Iron sensitive Doors in existence, you can get through the ones around the world." He pragmatically pointed out. "I don't even think your arm is made of Cold Iron, to be perfectly honest... I can touch it without getting burnt." 

"Since when did you figure that out?" Bucky dropped his map onto the coffee table and marched up to Steve with a particularly mulish expression. "Steve..." 

"I touched it while you were napping. I figured sooner or later we were gonna get... intimate and I didn't want you to think it was your fault if I got burnt by the metal. It turned out my fears weren't coming true since it didn't even hurt on contact. No burns, no bubbling... Nothing." Steve scrubbed at the back of his neck as he looked up from under his lashes. 

"So, what you're... Grandson. You're her actual grandson. The Fae in the shop is really related to you." Bucky figured it around the same time Sam did. 

"Half-Fae, half-human, all the way in love with you three. Does it change anything?" Steve replied honestly, the sweet sharp from before raising its head again. 

"Hell no, Stevie. I always knew there was somethin' else to you, just not what. So do we have to watch out for stuff like Cold Iron?" Bucky cupped Steve's face in his hands and kisses away the furrowed brow. 

"Iron, steel, basically anything that has some form of iron in it, hurts me; not as badly as if I were full Fae but I still get some nasty burns. They take a while to heal." He explained with a soft voice to Bucky and Sam. "Thanks to mundanes, a lot of stuff is more accessible to me. You don't have to worry too much." 

"Can we see you the way they see you?" Sam breathed out cautiously and Steve brightened as he gently removed Bucky's hands to stand up. 

"Of course." He closed his eyes and reality shifted around him, dispersing the illusion he showed everyday. 

Steve looked much the same but his fingertips had sharp nails and his pointed ears peeked out from behind longer blond hair. The most startling change came from his back; the delicate-looking wings fanned nearly the length of the living space they shared. 

The inner pieces were the same blue as Bucky's eyes, followed by a luxurious brown that matched Sam's eyes perfectly and the outer edge was the same crimson as the butterfly Clint often told her was her hope. 

"Can I?" Sam was in awe of the wings, reaching out before pulling away at the last second. 

"Despite how they look they can take a sword hit. You might get covered in Faerie dust though, so be careful not to shake them too much." He warned as Bucky tapped one of the six wings that fanned out. "It's not harmful but you might float for a few hours if you're happy enough." 

"I thought that was pixie dust." Natasha murmured as she traced her fingers along the thick crimson band on the outside edge. "Or is it something different?" 

"Fae aren't that picky about it but it's only the bigger kinds that can produce the dust." Steve hummed softly. "That tickles." Natasha carefully swirled her fingertips with magic over the patterns as Steve giggled. "Nat, no. This was supposed to be a strategy thing..."

* * *

**Europe, 2015; HYDRA Base, Sokovia**

HYDRA got distracted by Steve, Bucky blew it to smithereens and... Sam and Natasha found twins. Earth-shatteringly powerful magic users with no idea of how to use it. 

Nick gave them a very unimpressed look as Steve and Sam settle the very small twins into some approximate of magical stability (Sam apparently has magical nieces with no magical parents).

Tony arrived within the hour, shooing Sam and Steve away and presenting the twins with toys that light up when magic is being used. He calmed them down far faster than all five of them combined. The little girl liked tugging on Natasha's thick curls and the boy the same with Bucky. 

"Okay, do we have names? Files, ect.?" Tony fired off as he hacked into the remaining HYDRA servers with clever fingers, never taking his gaze off of the two now chewing on hair not meant for it. "Okay... De-aged mutants Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Right. HYDRA officially sucks. Rhodey and I will bring them to Prof. X maybe?" 

"Magic and mutants are not mutually exclusive. The Erlking does owe us that favor..." Natasha mulled it over as Wanda stopped biting her hair to watch her do magic. The cubes rise with her working, causing the twins to coo softly. "Irreversible. Wonderful. A little help here?" 

Steve snickered and Sam shook his head with a bemused expression. "Two of the deadliest assassins in history as we know it and they're getting chewed on by rugrats. This is just too good, Buck. Sorry." 

"You're lucky I got a lapful of kiddo right now. I'd kick you so hard you'd be seeing stars for weeks." Bucky threatened as he flicked tiny magelights for Pietro into the air. 

"Makes for good publicity," Tony joked and both Bucky and Natasha stared at him until he ducked behind Nick, the latter raising an eyebrow back. 

"He has a point. Minus the magic, this is something that would, for lack of a better word here, soften your images." Nick mentioned with a shrug. 

"Soft my... butt." 

Pietro giggled and repeated, "Butt!" 

"Butt!" Wanda chirruped before Dusk sauntered into the light with Clint not far behind. The bobcat was piled with two children, babbling a mile a minute in a language that only Natasha and Bucky understood. The general gist of it all was 'kitty, kitty, play with us.' 

Dusk rolled his eyes but tolerated the ear-pulling and teeth-checking until they arrived at the Tower. He lead them to the pseudo-nursery that Tony had set up with magically grounded playpens and a variety of toys. 

Part of her was soothed that Stark was so good with them and that Colonel Rhodes did seem rather... attached to the little ones. Perhaps they wouldn't go to Professor Xaiver after all.

* * *

Clint occassionally dropped by for visits and to catch up of the other's life. Dusk and Orel curled into a pile of fur and feathers that rarely moved as they communicated on the Familiar-only mental link. 

Natasha was curled into Clint's side as they talked, often late into the evening enough that the stars came out. 

"Hey Nat, I think I have a solution for Steve." Clint said long after they've caught up and are sitting in companionable silence. 

"In what regard?" 

"That, uh, Familiar thing. There's this really annoyed Kelpie in Hudson Bay that mumbles about a stupid half-Fae who hasn't shown up yet." he murmured as she sat up in interest. 

"When did you come across the Kelpie?" Natasha questioned. 

"A few weeks back. He said I smelled like I'd taken a bath in his partner. Truth was, I was on my way home from visiting you and well, you apparently smell a lot like Steve." Clint admitted easily. "I told him I'd bring up the topic with someone close to the half-Fae." 

"Which means me. I'll go tell Steve he's got a Familiar... Guess he's human enough after all." She sighed with a brief smile playing at her lips.

* * *

Steve waded into the Hudson the second he got the news, his khakis soaked to the knees before the enormous Fae horse showed. 

" _There_ you are. Where have you been the last seventy years?" The Kelpie draped himself over Steve and nuzzled through his hair gently. "The last time I felt you, you were chasing that awful Cold Iron contraption." 

"It's called a submarine. Mundane thing. What's your name?" Steve laughed as he pressed a soft kiss to the Kelpie's dappled cheek. 

"Muir. You must be Steven." 

"You're not upset I'm..." 

"Far from it. From what I understand you find ways around the laws and help as many as you can, Fae or otherwise. You are very brave." Muir countered as he nuzzled against Steve's chest. "I would not have any other partner." 

Natasha watched from shore as Steve flared out his Fe wings and delighted in Muir's response to them. 

_You would think them almost incompatible but they work,_ Orel murmured as Redwing tugged on his wingtip to invite him into the sky. _One moment, Redwing._ She ke-eed softly and took off from Sam's shoulder to circle the skies above them. 

Natasha took in the peaceful scene and leaned into the embrace of her two lovers with a small, crooked smile. She wouldn't put a label on the sharp/sweet/whole sensation but it was something she knew the others felt for her as well.

* * *

**America, D.C.; Autumn**

Natasha lulled off to sleep, surrounded by the men she loved, her magic pulling the covers up to ensconce them away from the nip of the cool autumn evening. She pillowed her head on Bucky's chest, lacing her fingers with Steve's as Sam cuddled her from behind. 

"Good night." Bucky slurred softly. It's followed by a round of good nights with sleepy kisses pressed to Nat's hand, face and shoulder. 

She had taken the road less travelled, but one Natasha Romanov has finally found a place she could call home.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, complain, ect.


End file.
